Angels of Light

Michael Gira has always explored the contradictions of the human predicament religiously, yet this album radiates an intensity that previous Angels of Light albums have only hinted at. We Are Him suggests a Christian congregation torn and tossing in the throes of a terminal lurid madness by exploring emotional fallout brought on by the meandering apocalyptic psychosis of Western Civilization. In a sense, they have made an Old Testament gospel album!

The absurdly diverse Akron/Family returns as Gira’s backing band, yet are restrained to the basic rhythms. Gira invites almost everyone he knows to participate in crafting his visceral musicality and a saturation of female vocals creates new and interesting dynamics and also infusing warmth that has been fleeting on previous albums.

Musically, Gira has moved away from the stripped down, even drumless approach of The Angels Of Light Sing Other People. The sonics are a confluence of folk tendencies, psychedelic, sunflower pop, western, Appalachia and brutal rock skewering.

Gira’s lyrics are often detached while heavy on pronouns. Lyrical specifics have never been his point instead allowing the music to paint details. However, this linguistic ambiguity puts a focus on action verbs that allows the lyrics to holistically dwell in the personal as well as societal spheres. Themes obsessively explore various confounding fluctuations of redemption, love, cruelty, violence and especially identity.

“Black River Song” begins with a flourishing gospel piano before being obliterated with a brutal taut guitar rhythm locked with pounding drums. “Promise of Water” almost suggests one the perspective of one of the horses of revelation that is driven forward by the songs of the lord which even burn in the lungs.

“The Man We Left Behind” vividly inhabits regret as memory prison. The songs starts with a shimmering violin and silvery dulcimer building to a gorgeous swell while drums invoke clopping hoof beats. Later, Gira indirectly lifts the melody from the folk standard “Down in the Valley,” which creates a rich association of generational continuity. Lyrically the song is desperate plea upon which the protagonist sings “It’s still true I crave him/ I crave him too much/ He’s still in my blood stream/ but I’ll soon give him up.”

“Goodbye Mary Lou” gleefully explores the opposite. The manic, skeletal Appalachia sounds convincingly convey the proud elation of letting go of a love’s charred memory. The simplicity of a line like “Mary Lou/ fuck you” is utterly dumb, but so was Ricky Nelson’s “Hello, Mary Lou” that Gira is humorously, slyly referencing.

One can’t escape myth or one’s specific cultural religious text. Authoritatively, “My Brother’s Song” ferociously makes this evident. Gira channels a wrathful Moses on which the highlight is a chilling gospel breakdown as Gira’s vocal testifies “I am the God of this fucking land” provoking the music to higher cacophonous heights.

“Joseph’s Song” explores the spiritual litigations of love and surrogacy, as all emotional entanglements demand a toll. The crux of the song is “There is no place to run from Joseph’s truth/ his hands are on your throat but are feeding you.” Suddenly, the tune detours perplexedly in a lilting, bittersweet Victorian marching band celebration.

The title track, “We Are Him,” starts with a La Monte Young type drone, before mutating into a rock stomp country blues that moans out about supplicating one’s identity to the mysterious “him.” Someone is paying the ultimate tithe in a church gone wrong.

“Star Chaser” is the shivering closer, a musical equivalent to a Georg Trakl poem. The tune describes the sound after all apocalypses end. Gira’s baritone intones “Childhood it’s over, forgotten and clean.” The coda refrain “You live on in me” is absolutely chilling, the tune easily evoking an elderly bearded man with axe in hand entering a dismal, dark wood not unlike a biblical prophet.

We Are Him is depressingly cathartic while still retaining a subtle optimism through its circular nature. The album provocatively poses questions about identity and what Joseph Campbell has referred to as religions of salvation (Islam, Judaism, and Christianity). Ultimately, Angels of Light have carved out a mostly timeless artistic testament.

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